Conflagration
by InterstellarGazer
Summary: He fails to understand how one can burn so brightly without harming anyone.


Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

\- Robert Frost, Fire and Ice

For as long as he can remember, Shouto has known hatred. From the heat in its eyes and the coldness of its heart, it paralyzed him. It was the blistering pain and learning that his own mother could not stand him. It was learning that he was his father's weapon. Hatred was the ugly curdling of his heart when he gazed at children playing with their families at the park.

Hatred was a thing with teeth that gnawed him from the inside out.

The only thing he was sure about was that the hatred he had once tried so hard to push away was now welcomed. He took comfort in its ravenous nature so that maybe one day there would be nothing left of himself to feel anything at all.

Of course, that was before he had met Midoriya Izuku. A seemingly quiet boy who sat near the window in class; always holding a notebook in his hands or within easy reach inside his book bag.

Shouto was used to maintaining composure in many situations. But when he first saw Midoriya, he felt his heart stutter. His kind, green eyes. His modesty and humbleness. His unruly green hair that Shouto believes would be soft as silk if he ran his fingers through it.

Midoriya's bright eyes brought warmth to the side of Shouto that he had vehemently denied would ever exist. After withering through years of frostbite and blisters, Midoriya's warmth was a foreign feeling, and he craved it. To feel comfortable with someone and to be close to them.

One day, when their hands brushed while passing each other papers being handed out in class, Shouto felt his face become warm. He looked up to see that Izuku's own face was a fiery crimson, almost rivaling his scar.

"Are…are you okay?" He had asked him, surprising himself with the hint of nervousness he found in his voice.

Midoriya's eyes widened, having only heard Shouto's voice for the first time himself. He tried to reassure him that he was fine, but all the came out was a huff of air. He quickly gathered up his books and left the classroom, excusing himself to the nurse's office.

As for Shouto, he tried to go back to his work, but the tingling of the back of his hand, on his ice side, continued. He could swear it still felt warm.

It's after one of his father's intense training sessions he realized that long ago, he hadn't been much different from Midoriya. But the hatred that has engulfed his family has taken over him, too. In the end, Shouto was nothing more than a hallow vessel for his parents to store their shortcomings; it built up to an immense pressure and seared his bones.

It burned.

Shouto continues to watch Midoriya from day to day, failing to understand how one can burn so brightly without harming anyone.

* * *

The classroom had been buzzing with excitement for the past week and a half, until the day had finally arrived. The dreaded annual school trip.

Maybe it would not have been so bad if it hadn't been the hottest day of the year so far. Everyone else was wearing shorts and a light t-shirt, while he had decided to wear a long sleeve sweater and black pants.

As he stared out the window at the passing vibrant trees and blue skies, he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater; hoping that more exposure would ease his suffering. In the back of the bus, one could hear the gradual increase of voices, signifying once again, a fight.

"Fucking Deku, what kind of shitty book is that?"

Shouto looked back to see Bakugou wrestling the journal he had seen Midoriya with so many times. Bakugou manages to tear the notebook from his grip. Izuku's face took on a sickly pallor and his eyes widened in fear. Suddenly, the bus was quiet as Bakugou began to set off small explosions in his empty hand, moving closer and closer to the journal.

"You're so pathetic. You believe you'll succeed in life if you just write everything you know about a hero down? You worthless shit."

His hand gets closer, one of the sparks bounce on to the cover and leave a darkened area on the cover.

 _Between the blistering pain and the ringing in his ears, he couldn't process what had happened. His mother was screaming. The next thing he knows is that his father wrestles her away and begins to treat the wound himself, telling him what he could say to his school teacher and to stay away from the doctor until it heals._

Shouto blinked and Bakugou's eyes widened. Between the insults and the curses towards Izuku, Shouto had grabbed Bakugou's wrist.

"Give him his notebook."

Bakugou's lips curled back, almost as if snarling at him. "Make me, you fucking spoiled shit. You'll probably go home and tell your mom about this and the bitch will blow a gasket for you. Mind your own fucking business."

Shouto felt his own lips twitch into a small smile. How ironic it is, for those who claim to know it all to be the most ignorant.

Bakugou had begun struggling in his grip and in haste, Shouto dropped his hands, noticing the beginning of frostbite on Bakugou's arm. He dropped Midoriya's book and began rubbing his arm.

When their teacher finally noticed, he ordered Shouto to go home at the next stop.

"But sensei, it was Bakugou's fault! He was just helping me…" Midoriya trailed off and attempted to grab Shouto as the teacher towed him off the bus. Just as Shouto looked back into those lively green eyes, Midoriya grabbed his hand.

"Please," Midoriya begged. "He did nothing wrong. He was upset and his quirk just activated, _please_."

Shouto's mouth was dry and suddenly, for the first time in years, he felt like crying.

The teachers lips thinned and the muscles in his neck grew noticeably taut. He tugged even harder on Shouto's arm, causing Midoriya to lose his grip.

 _I…just wanted to help_ , he thought to himself miserably.

As his father doubled his training and left him in the garden for the night, he remembers the gratitude in Midoriya's eyes. For once in his life, Shouto believes that he might have done something right.

* * *

After the field trip, Midoriya had taken to joining Shouto during their lunch breaks on the roof. While he enjoyed talking, he seemed to understand that Shouto did not and remained relatively silent. One day, Shouto's sleeve had caught in his books, and Midoriya saw an array of bruises and small scars peppered along his arm.

The next time they meet for lunch, he brings bandages.

* * *

A few weeks have passed and Shouto thinks he finally has a friend.

Most people saw him as the son of Endeavor, a fearless hero with a temper. They seemed to stay out of his way unless told otherwise.

Shouto hadn't minded it, but when Midoriya came along he realized just how lonely he actually was. His quiet lunch breaks, his afternoons spent on homework, training, self-deprecation, and sleep, no longer seemed as desirable.

Having a friend was something Shouto had never considered, and he regrets not attempting to make any earlier. There only seemed to be one problem: if one befriends Izuku Midoriya, they're Bakugou's enemy by association.

"You know, you shouldn't listen to Kacchan. He doesn't mean anything of what he said, he's just jealous." Midoriya told him conversationally while opening a can of coffee. Earlier that morning, Bakugou had set his homework on fire, once again calling him a spoiled shit.

Shouto remembers his father and opens his own can with much more force than needed, cutting his finger in the process.

They were both silent for a moment, listening to their peers down below and the birds in the trees. Beyond the school grounds, the sky was turning dark grey and rain was beginning to stain the roads.

"Midoriya," he begins.

"Izuku," Midoriya interrupts, his cheeks reddening. "We've been talking to each other long enough, I think."

"Izuku," he corrects himself. The name feels foreign on his tongue. "What do you aspire to be?"

Izuku seemed thoughtful for a moment. "I want to save people with a smile."

As Shouto listens, he attempts to stem the flow of blood from his finger, only for it to end up on both of his hands.

* * *

Somehow, they all make it to Yuuei. Bakugou with his violence, Izuku with his selflessness, and Shouto by simply doing his best. To have been accepted into the prestigious academy was a breath of fresh air. There, they were certain to become what they've always wanted. They were going to become pro heroes.

One knew that when becoming a hero, there were always sacrifices to be made, ties to break, and people to save. But many seem to underestimate just how hard it is to do.

So it's when Izuku is on the ground, his green eyes distant and half-closed, that Shouto chokes on a sob as it attempts to break free from his chest.

For his entire life, all Shouto has ever known was hatred. From the heat of its eyes and the coldness of its heart, it paralyzed him. But now as he stands over Izuku he understands that what he's feeling is stronger than any hatred he has ever felt, and it scares him to no end.

"Can you hear me, Midoriya? Izuku?"

Midoriya manages to open his eyes completely and groans. As Shouto kneels down, he felt the warmth of Izuku's blood soaking into his clothes, but he's never felt colder.

"The pro heroes should be here soon. Just hang on." He takes off his jacket and presses it into the gashes on Izuku's chest, causing him to cry out. Nearby, he can hear someone shouting for someone to call an ambulance.

Blood pulses between his fingers as Izuku heaves, vomit and blood mixing beneath him. Quickly, Shouto takes out his phone and calls the only person he can think of while begging Izuku to stat awake. Izuku's fingers twitches weakly around his wrist while Shouto tries, and fails, to calm down.

The touchscreen was stained crimson and he shakily holds it against his ear.

 _"Todoroki, what's going on?"_

His breathing hitches as Izuku coughs, his chest rattling. Sweat gleams on his forehead.

 _"Todoroki, are you okay?"_

"Sensei, It's Midoriya," He rambles. "He's hurt. Badly. I can't remember the number for the ambulance and you're the only person I thought to call because you're a pro hero and all and I don't know what to do because he's bleeding all over the place and damn it, there's too much blood. I'm trying to stop it but I can't. I can't do anything."

 _"Where are you?"_

He doesn't respond.

 _"Where. Are. You."_

He doesn't remember what happens after that, but all he knows is that a few moments later, he takes Midoriya into his arms because he's shivering. It's the least he could do to try and warm him up.

"You'll be okay," He says, and is unsure if he's speaking to Izuku or himself. "You'll be okay, it's okay, you'll be fine. Just keep your eyes open." He removes one of his hands from over Izuku's chest and takes one of his hands.

Midoriya shifts his eyes beyond Shouto and to the sky above. The stars wink at him. A moment later, he looks back into Shouto's eyes and manages a weary smile, blood coating his teeth and chin. Failing to take another breath, Izuku stills and his grip on Shouto's hand slackens.

Somewhere, Shouto hears the nearing of sirens; Midoriya's blood is still warm when they arrive and his clothes are stiff with it.

As Aizawa (when did he get here?) coaxes him to his feet, he stumbles into his chest.

"Easy kid, you did all you could do." He fails to hear the hitch in his sensei's voice as Aizawa places a blanket on his shoulders. He hadn't noticed he was shivering, either. He pulls the blanket closer to himself.

"We were supposed to be heroes," He croaks as his teacher leads to the back of an ambulance.

 _We were supposed to be heroes._

* * *

For as long as he can remember, Shouto has known hatred. He was born out of hatred, raised by rivalry, and numbed by cruelty. His quirk was a representation of everything he despised.

He frequently remembers the warmth of a hand, kind words, and a weary smile. He remembers someone who had made him feel wanted. Sometimes, it was this sense of belonging that made him feel as though life was worth living. That maybe, just _maybe_ , there was a place for him in the world.

As he stands in the doorway of Izuku's empty room, Todoroki Shouto weeps.


End file.
